


Midnight Answer

by SireneNomdePlume



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Dancing, F/M, I don't know what else to put because it's weird crack fic, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy smut, Strip Tease, Umm basically crack, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SireneNomdePlume/pseuds/SireneNomdePlume
Summary: To raise awareness for House Elves, Ginny suggests a go-go dancing event at the Hogshead. Hermione really isn't sure if she wants to do this. And she definitely doesn't want any teachers finding out about it, either. And why is a man in a mask so eager to donate money for a private dance?





	Midnight Answer

**Author's Note:**

> What is wrong with me? I just had this idea this morning and ran with it. I just needed some Snamione crack on here. Anyway, Happy St Paddy's Day! I intend to get extremely drunk tomorrow night since I don't work Sunday. Yay! Oh, before I forget, please PLEASE forgive the awful song lyrics I came up with later in the story. I'm horrible today. Also, this title is taken from some lyrics from the Lana Del Rey song Go-Go Dancer. On that note...

“You’re still going on about that?”

Hermione glared at Ginny, who huffed and grabbed her glass of foamy butterbeer. 

“It’s a legitimate cause, Ginny. House Elves—”

“Yeah, I know,” Ginny interrupted. “But honestly, it’s getting better, and it’s not like they want you championing for them…” 

“Because they’re too downtrodden to realize that they deserve better. Much better.” Hermione sipped her own butterbeer. “Come on, Ginny. Help me out here. I need to bring awareness to—”

“Well, you could always have an event,” Ginny said, twirling a lock of red hair between her fingers. An event? What kind of event could she mean? Hermione wracked her brain for ideas. 

“Well, we could have a class of sorts, talk about the history of House Elves and their imprisonment by wizards…”

 _“Or,”_ Ginny said, “you could have something more interesting.” Hermione bristled. 

“Learning more about magical beasts and their history is very interesting,” Hermione shot back. Which it really was, but maybe…maybe not everyone would share her viewpoint. Hermione sighed and stared at Ginny, who was sitting across from her at the small table. 

“Come on Hermione, that sounds so boring. How about this. Dancing.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “Dancing?”

“Yeah,” Ginny replied. “Make pamphlets about your cause, something like that. And to attract people to your event, why not dance?” 

“What kind of dancing?” Hermione asked warily. Ginny’s smile stretched into a mischievous grin. 

“Go-go dancing,” Ginny smirked. “The only kind that will get you as much publicity as you want to have.”

Hermione balked. “Wha—no!” she hissed. What on earth was Ginny thinking? “I can’t just go out there and…besides, I haven’t even talked to Aberforth yet, and I am _not_ doing this alone, even if I do decide to…” 

“And I can help you,” Ginny sighed, her eyes growing distant and large as saucers. “Imagine…I could tell Harry and he’d come and see me dance…” 

Hermione snorted because if she was going through with this foolhardy plan, she certainly did not want her best friends coming to see her rip her own dignity to shreds. “You’re still in seventh year,” she shot back. “Surely Professor Snape…McGonagall…” Because Snape was back at Hogwarts, and if he caught wind of this...Hermione shuddered to think what would happen. 

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Ginny said, her tone nonchalant as she waved her hand. “And I’m of age anyway. We have to work on sending out flyers, of course. And it’d have to be on the weekend so I can dance too.” 

Hermione groaned and buried her face in the palm of her hand. She loved Ginny, but sometimes she could just fling a nasty hex at her. Of all things…go-go dancing! Hermione’s reputation would be bruised, but honestly, it was the least she could do to raise S.P.E.W awareness. 

“I’ll spread the word,” Ginny said. “You work on pamphlets or whatever it is you want to hand out to people. I’ll get us some dancers. And an audience,” she winked, as Hermione shook her head. 

"I can't believe you talked me into this," she moaned and slumped further in her chair.

* * *

The stage was set. 

Well, part of the way, anyhow. Hermione furrowed her brow and continued writing furiously on her pamphlet, which she meant to duplicate later. Aberforth had reluctantly agreed to host her event, though he did admit that it would bring more money to the pub. But…she needed to find more dance—

“Hermione!”

The door to the Common Room burst open and Ginny thrust herself through with Luna in tow. “Hello, Hermione,” Luna said, her voice a wisp as Ginny bustled her way to Hermione. 

“We have the beginnings of a go-go dancer army,” Ginny squealed, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder. If Hermione wasn’t so intent on raising awareness for her rebirth of S.P.E.W, she was sure Ginny would be more excited about this than she was. Hermione’s stomach clenched. 

“Is that right,” Hermione said, glancing at the pamphlet she was working on. “I have to finish this.” 

“Right, right,” Ginny said.

Luna walked over to sit beside Hermione on the sofa. “I Owled Cho,” she said. “She’s up for such things anyway. I heard that she took her broomstick once and—”

“Anyway,” Ginny said hurriedly, and Merlin, did Ginny have a habit of interrupting people or what? “We have Daphne Greengrass, Luna, of course, Hannah’s not sure about it yet, but Susan Bones says she will, Cho’s coming, Parvati too…”

“Padma?” Hermione asked blandly. She didn’t mind Padma, but now that she and Ron were an item, it would be a bit awkward, wouldn’t it? 

“No, and I didn’t have the stomach to ask Parkinson. Can you imagine? She’d want to run the whole thing. We'd be dancing with snakes, skirts on and knickers off," Ginny grunted, and Hermione had to bite back a grin. “So tomorrow night and Saturday night we’ll all be ready. What should we wear?” 

Hermione’s hand slashed over the pamphlet, leaving a blot of ink in the quill’s wake, and she hissed under her breath. She’d have to fix that. “What?” she snapped. She cleared her throat. “What?” she said again, making a difficult attempt to keep her voice soft and steady. She didn’t know if she could do this, but for the House Elves sake…

“I was thinking I’d go the old-fashioned route. Sexy schoolgirl outfit, black lacey bra, really short skirt…”

“I was going to go for a cute look,” Luna said. “I’ll put my hair in pigtails and dress up like that Muggle fairytale…Little Blow Peepers…”

“Little Bo Peep,” Hermione sighed. “That’s a bit ridiculous.”

Ginny huffed. “Come on, Hermione. We have to get creative. We can’t all be wearing the same outfit out there, unless we all dance together.” 

“Yes, how should we go about doing this?” Hermione asked, tapping her quill on her lips. Ginny shrugged. 

“Maybe we can dance one at a time. And if someone wants a private dance—”

 _“Private dance?”_ Hermione cried, slamming her hand on the table. “No. Absolutely not.” 

“We could put the Galleons in a foundation for research on magical creatures,” Luna piped up. 

“Or something to do with S.P.E.W,” Ginny said brightly. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, ‘Mione. This is your event, after all.” 

Yes, it was, but she wasn’t really running it anymore. Hermione sighed. 

“Fine,” Hermione said wearily, grabbing her quill again. “But if this goes wrong, Ginny…”

“It’ll be fun!” Ginny exclaimed. “Loosen your britches a bit. You might even enjoy yourself.” 

“How can I—” Hermione started, but Ginny moved away with Luna close behind. 

“I’ll leave you to your pamphlet,” Ginny called. “See you soon! Remember, we’re doing it tomorrow night!”

Hermione almost wished she was back at the Battle of Hogwarts again rather than planning a go-go dancing fiasco. She inhaled sharply and picked up her wand to fix the ink spill.

* * *

“Miss Granger.”

Hermione froze. Snape. 

“Being a war hero must give you some nerve to go stalking about the corridors this late,” Snape said, his soft tone laced with danger. Hermione swallowed. 

“Well, you see…”

“House Elves. How…compassionate of you,” Snape sneered, regarding the cover of her pamphlet. She snatched her hand back and stuffed the pamphlet into her bag. She’d been dropping them off in every Common Room, and Ginny had already told Aberforth to spread word across Hogsmeade. The last thing she needed was Snape sticking his huge, hawkish nose into her…go-go dancing…whatever-it-was. 

“Right, so I’ll…I’ll go now,” Hermione said, turning her back to Snape and getting ready to flee. 

“Not so fast,” Snape hissed. Hermione’s heart pounded against her chest like a battering ram. “Just because you’re a… _hero_ of sorts…” and he was too, but Hermione wasn’t about to say anything, “it doesn’t give you the right to go skulking about at ten in the evening. Even without your two annoying sidekicks, you’re still as insufferable as ever. Ten points from Gryffindor.” He swiveled on his heel and swept away. 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen. 

Thank Merlin for that.

* * *

“Alright girls,” Ginny began, striding back and forth at the front of the Hogshead. Aberforth was examining the shot glasses, and he seemed intent on not glancing their way. 

Cho was dressed in a beautiful, short silk dress (with no stockings,) the floral pattern gleaming in the dim light of the pub. Luna had curled her hair and was wearing half of it up in a bun, the rest loosely spilling over her shoulders in golden waves. Her dress was white and lacy, a little longer than Cho’s, but she was also wearing a strange tentacle-like necklace that curled around her throat and seemed to move. Hermione looked away, because it was a bit disconcerting, as the tentacle suctioned onto a piece of Luna’s skin with a resounding smack. 

The rest of the girls seemed to go for Ginny’s look; schoolgirl outfits. Hermione shook her head. She hoped that there would be more attendees than just students, because she wanted to worm her way into the Pure-Blood brain and plant a seed there. After the war, she was sure they’d be more than agreeable. Hopefully. 

But wasn’t it a bit provocative to be dressing up as a sexy schoolgirl when…you were actually a schoolgirl? Of age or not, Hermione wasn’t sure how she thought about that. 

"So, what are you wearing, ‘Mione?" Ginny asked as Hermione looked down at her decidedly not sexy sweater and long trousers. “People will be showing up in ten minutes or so. Here, let me help you.”

“No—” Hermione started, but Ginny flicked her wand anyway, and Hermione’s sweater melted into a fine, red velvet dress. The dress was extremely short, too short for Hermione’s state of mind. Oh well. A long slit practically went up to her buttocks, and she clenched her hands together. At least she decided to wear her best panties tonight, not that it would matter any. 

“We want to run an idea past you,” Cho said. “We were thinking, well, that instead of dancing one by one, we could dance with our housemates. Luna and myself, Hannah and Susan, you, Ginny, and Parvati, and Daphne and…er…”

“I’ll just dance with myself,” Daphne grumbled, “unless you Ravenclaws want another partner on your team.” 

“She’s too good for us Hufflepuffs,” Hannah whispered none-too-quietly, as Daphne shot a glare at her. 

“I’m fine with the idea,” Hermione said, and nearly breathed a sigh of relief. This go-go dancing event was getting out of her hands, and she wasn’t even sure if she was in charge anymore. But at least she wouldn’t have to stand at the front of the whole pub and dance by herself. 

“Aberforth, let’s make the stage,” Ginny yelled out, and Aberforth grunted. He flicked his wand, and Hermione gasped as the floor they were standing on was elevated. “And lights, too,” Ginny added. Aberforth’s eye ticked and he waved his wand again. Brilliant, flashing blue and purple lights strobed over the stage, and Ginny flicked her own wand to the jukebox. It definitely wasn't the obnoxious crooning of Celestina Warbeck. "Let's give our wands to Aberforth," Ginny said, and everyone moved to drop their wands on the bar. Aberforth grumbled again and grabbed them to put them under the counter. 

Ginny turned to the window and peered out at the street. “People are starting to show up!” she cried, hustling over to the stage. “Everyone off! Hermione, do you want to announce the girls?”

Hermione’s jaw loosened. She hadn’t thought any of this part through. Ginny shook her head. “Never mind, I’ll do it. Okay, everyone else off the stage. I’ll figure this out.” 

Hermione grumbled and stepped off the stage. 

After a half hour, the pub was completely packed, almost as if they were all crammed into a can of sardines. Hermione’s heart was racing. She could do this. She could do this. She would do this. 

Not everyone was a student…she saw more than a few adult faces, and a couple of elderly men, which made her heart rate spike even more. To think she, Hermione Granger, would be reduced to a mere hunk of meat on display for everyone and their grandfathers in Hogsmeade…

 _The House Elves. Think of the House Elves._ Hermione inhaled through her nose and out through her mouth as Ginny flaunted herself on stage. 

“Good evening boys,” Ginny said, grinning at the audience, “and ladies,” she tipped her head to a table of witches. “We are here tonight to raise more awareness for House Elves, and see here, we have pamphlets...Aberforth?” 

Aberforth grunted and grabbed the stack of pamphlets, making his way to every booth and table to shove the paper under their noses. A few people flipped through it right away, but Hermione was incensed that the audience’s attention seemed solely focused on Ginny and her risqué outfit. 

“If you want a private dance from one of the girls, you have to donate ten Galleons to our host’s Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

Hermione scrunched up her brow and tugged angrily at a stray curl. She said no private dancing—

“First up, we have our lovely eagles,” and Ginny gestured to the side of the stage. Luna drifted up the stairs, and Cho followed closely behind. Neither of them looked daunted at all. Hermione wished she could claim the same. “Enjoy the show,” Ginny winked, and hopped off stage, but not before her skirt flew up a bit. She scampered to Hermione and righted herself. 

“I thought you said no private dances,” Hermione hissed, and Ginny giggled nervously. 

“Well, you know, at least you’ll have donations,” Ginny said. Hermione shook her head furiously. 

“Why would I need…for Merlin’s sake, Ginny,” Hermione cried, but she could barely hear her own voice over the pounding of the music. She glanced over at Luna, who had taken off her weird tentacle necklace and was now dancing with it as if it were a ribbon. Hermione shuddered. 

“Daphne’s stuck with the Hufflepuffs,” Ginny said loudly, and Hermione looked back to see Daphne standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Hermione tugged on her bushy hair again. “Oi, we really need to do something about that hair.” Ginny slipped her own hairband out of her ponytail and gave it to Hermione. 

Hermione sighed and pulled her hair up in a bun. Little tendrils of curls flew around her face, but she didn’t feel as hot and uncomfortable as she did before. 

The song ended, and Ginny left Hermione in favor of the stage. “And next, the saucy minxes of Hufflepuff! And, er…a sexy snake,” Ginny added lamely, as Daphne shook her head and sauntered on stage. 

Daphne seemed very comfortable in her own skin, and Hermione watched as she drew closer to Susan and grabbed her hand. Hermione’s eyes widened. Susan and Daphne were practically grinding up against each other like cats in heat as Hannah twirled around, and Hermione inhaled a shaky breath. She could do this. 

“We could dance like that, ‘Mione,” Ginny yelled in her ear, and Hermione winced.

“Well, it _would_ raise more awareness for people to come tomorrow night,” she replied, as Ginny said, 

“What? I can’t hear you. Blasted music.” 

Ginny let the Hufflepuffs (and the lone Slytherin) dance for two more songs before she got back up on the stage. Hermione's heart sank to the pit of her sour stomach. Remember, you’re a Gryffindor. 

“And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for,” Ginny grinned, her teeth gleaming in the flashing lights as the crowd clapped and cheered. “The hot, the spectacular, the bold, the best…” the rest of the girls glared at Ginny, “the Gryffindors!” 

Whistles and hoots and hollers collided into a mess of sound that deafened Hermione’s ears as she reluctantly made her way onto the stage. Ginny nodded at Aberforth, who flicked his wand at the radio again. 

She’s so sweet, like Sugar Quills  
A girl like that just gives me chills  
Pop me like a Bertie Bott  
Drop it low, make it hot

What on earth _was_ this music? Hermione trembled and started to dance. Her limbs were quivering, and she stepped forward too fast as she spun, so fast that she almost stumbled off stage. Ginny grabbed her by the arm and pet her hair softly. “Dance with me,” she mouthed against Hermione’s ear. “It’ll be easier.”

Hermione sighed as Ginny wrapped one arm around her and started to bump her curves into Hermione. After a few moments she twirled away, and Hermione’s eyes widened. “No, don’t leave—"

The next song came on, and Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she would have to dance on her own now. She inhaled through her nose and ran her hands down the front of her dress. 

The crowd cheered. Hermione swallowed and wiggled her hips. Ginny and Parvati were dancing behind her now, and Hermione was barely aware of it. She felt almost…powerful, commanding an audience like this, having them fixated on every move she made. She bent down and danced her way back up, and Hermione could hear the telltale tinkle of Galleons being dropped into the large jar on the bar. 

The song wasn’t over yet, and one more to go…or so Ginny made it sound like. Hermione swayed to the music, bending down so close to the floor that her bum nearly touched it, and then lifted herself back up to toss her heels off of her feet and to the back of the stage. Thankfully they didn’t hit either of the girls. 

The door to the Hogshead creaked open, distracting her from her dance. No one else looked his way…well, his _maybe,_ but Hermione couldn’t really tell. The person was tall and slender, and black robes fell around his body. It was so hot in the pub that Hermione couldn’t believe that someone would wear something so stifling, especially since it wasn’t even that cold outside. Whoever it was turned their head to the stage. A mask obscured all of his face, and Hermione’s heart sped up. It wasn’t a Death Eater mask, and it looked nothing like one, but a mask in Hogsmeade…right after the war, too…

Hermione decided that she wouldn’t balk that easily. She met the man’s gaze (because only a man had such broad shoulders and a finely sculpted jaw like that) and twirled a lock of her hair before flouncing around the stage. His dark eyes glittered, and she watched as he retreated to the bar, murmuring to Aberforth. Aberforth’s eyes widened, and he nodded, mumbling something to the other man. Hermione wished it wasn’t so loud in the pub. 

The song ended. Sweat was rolling down Hermione’s face, soaking her hair as she brushed stray wisps back. Aberforth motioned her over, and Hermione swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. 

“This, er. Well, this gentleman requested a private dance,” Aberforth said gruffly. Hermione’s eyes bulged. 

“Private… _are you sure it’s me, and not Ginny?”_ Hermione whispered, and Aberforth shrugged, leaning in closer to mumble back at her. 

“He requested you specifically,” Aberforth answered. Hermione’s gut roiled. 

For the House Elves. They had better appreciate this. Well, someone should. She bet this man would. Hermione ground her teeth. 

“There’s a room in the back that I keep for…well, the goats aren’t there,” Aberforth called, and Hermione glanced over at the girls, who stared back at her wide-eyed. 

The man at the end of the bar stood up, his dark eyes glinting. Hermione cleared her throat and stepped in front of him to make her way to the back room. 

“I’ve never done this sort of thing before,” Hermione said, as the door closed. The man said nothing, but he sat down on a nearby stool. 

“Aren’t you going to talk?” Hermione snapped, as the man drew out his wand and flicked it at the ceiling. Low music lilted from all around, and it was slow, sensuous, and Hermione would not do this—

The man pocketed his wand and leaned forward, resting his hand on her upturned cheek. Hermione felt her face heat up with a furious blush. She was sure she looked as purple as a plum right now, but this wasn't the time to be self-conscious. 

“Alright, but you have to tell me how you want this done,” Hermione snapped. The man snorted under his mask, and Hermione was half tempted to rip it off and see what kind of pervert this was. 

Hermione sighed and began to move to the music. She tried her very best to ignore the man who was eagerly devouring her every move, and her skin prickled. She jolted as she felt something touch her hand…fingers, gently clasping around her wrist and tugging her closer. Hermione nearly choked. But…as his fingers stroked her skin, she wondered how it felt to him…was she soft? Was her skin smooth to his touch? Did she really attract him? Her, the bushy-haired nerd of Gryffindor? 

Hermione sighed and let him guide her closer. Soon, she was dancing so close that she might as well have been sitting in his lap. He guided her around, and Hermione bumped her bum a bit, just as she had on stage. 

A hand slowly rubbed the small of her back, and Hermione’s skin flushed even more. This had better be worth the donated Galleons. 

His hand was moving rhythmically to the music, and Hermione sighed. It felt nice, it wasn’t as horrible as she thought it would have been. He was a complete stranger, and he might not even care about the House Elves, but in this moment, he thought Hermione beautiful, and Hermione felt something claw up inside of her…something dark and delicious. She scooted back even closer, her body fluid and changing to the music. 

He twirled her around again, his dark eyes gleaming strangely as the music ended. He was still silent. Hermione reached to touch him, because she had to know who he was, but he stood up abruptly. He nodded to Hermione and swept out of the room. 

Hermione sank down on the stool. It was still warm from his body heat, and she wished he would have said something.

* * *

“Eighty-five Galleons!”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Ginny, are you serious?” 

“Yes!” Ginny squealed. “And Aberforth told me that man you danced with last night dropped an extra twenty for your private dance!”

Hermione blushed. Was she even that good of a dancer? She couldn’t get him out of her head. His hand on her back, so close to her arse, rubbing softly…she wondered if his skin would feel as velvet as her dress. She shook her head. She would never see him again, so why was she even bothering to think about him? The only one who had touched her like that had been Ron, before they parted ways when Hermione returned to Hogwarts.

"Well, that's nice," Hermione said. She'd do it again tonight if it meant he might be back. She was curious to find out who was behind the mask. He had such nice, warm hands…

“That’s nice? That’s all you have to say? Hermione, we made a lot of money! And we’re going to make even more tonight, now that people know more about the event.” 

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed in agreement. “I just want to rest for a bit.” Hermione closed her eyes. 

“Right, well, in four hours we’re doing it again.”

Who was in charge again? Hermione or Ginny? Hermione didn’t even know anymore, and frankly, she didn’t care. She closed her eyes with a yawn and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Hermione twirled her wand, her clothes morphing into a white, nearly sheer blouse and short green skirt with stockings. She slipped her shoes off. Well, it was a bit naughty, but she’d already done many things that could be considered naughty in the past two days; her inhibitions were so worn down that she didn’t care anymore. 

Just like the night before, Ginny announced them, and if the pub had been crowded the night before, now it was ridiculously packed. Hermione could barely breathe, and she scanned the crowd for the mysterious man from the night before. She couldn’t spot him, but she could feel eyes on her all the same. 

But so many eyes were watching her as she stepped onstage, so who could tell if he was there after all? Hermione sighed and began to dance. 

The song ended too soon, and Hermione couldn’t believe that she actually wanted to dance more. It was…freeing. Ginny was right. It was fun, once you got used to it. 

Hermione shook her head and headed to the bar, where patrons were laughing and guzzling down drinks. Aberforth was bustling about like a chicken, and Hermione could almost hear him clacking from the effort of pouring all of those drinks. Hermione bet that he’d never seen business like this in his pub before. 

“You’ve got quite an admirer,” Aberforth grunted, his face ruddy and beard stringy with sweat. He tipped his head twice to the side, and Hermione's heart leaped as she saw a familiar mask, and familiar eyes glittering at her. 

She should be more nervous than she was, dancing with a man she didn't know, or couldn't even see his face…he could be anyone. But Hermione made her way over to him anyway, and she grabbed his hand to steer him to the back room. 

Hermione dropped his hand and turned to face him. Her palm and fingers were still warm from touching him. 

“Who are you?” she demanded, and the man shook his head. “I won’t dance for you if you don’t take the mask off, at least.” 

The man's eyes turned to the side in a half-roll, and Hermione's heart stuttered. She had seen that eye roll before. She'd seen it nearly every day for eight years. 

“Take off the mask,” Hermione said firmly. She stepped closer to him. He backed away, but not fast enough. Hermione was certain of who he was, now, and anger blossomed in her belly to rise to her face in a red flush. She ripped the mask off and threw it to the ground. 

“I knew it,” Hermione hissed, and Snape turned away from her in favor of observing the peeling paint on the wall. "Why didn't you tell me? How…did you think I wouldn't eventually find out?"

“I was hoping…” he drawled, reaching backward for the doorknob, and Hermione growled. 

“No. No, you don’t get to go anywhere,” she said, grabbing his hand. “You paid for a dance.”

Both of his eyebrows flew up, and he sat down on the stool. Hermione drew in a breath and regarded him for a moment. He wasn’t the prettiest man, but power and something like danger seemed to seep out of every pore of his body, and for some reason, that attracted her. His dark eyes were burning coals as he rubbed a single finger over his thin lips. “Miss Granger, I apologi—”

"No you don't," Hermione said and huffed a piece of hair out of her face. "You came in for a dance. Well, Professor, a dance is what you are going to get." 

The heat in his eyes seemed to catch her skin on fire, and her heart flip-flopped. She inhaled sharply and stepped closer to him. “You can play music now,” she said, and he raised one eyebrow before flicking his wand up. She started to move to the music, her limbs like liquid, her skin hot and flushed. He reached for her hand again, and she let him draw her closer. She sighed. This was nice. She was almost grateful for Ginny's idea, and she regarded his lap and the bulge that strained against his trousers. Could she help him with that? 

She licked her lips and closed her eyes as he rubbed small circles on the top of her hand. She certainly wanted to…

It wasn’t as if he’d expel her. She sank down to sit on his lap, and he snatched his hand away. “Are you certa—”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said softly, shocked at her own gall. “Are you?”

“Yesss,” he hissed. “I’d like that.” 

Hermione grasped his shoulders as she gyrated in his lap. Her panties were positively soaked, and she felt as if she could combust if he touched her. Snape reached behind her and ripped at her skirt. The ruined fabric floated down, and he bestowed the same attention on her blouse. He unclasped her bra, and her nipples peaked. She watched his narrowed eyes, and she was nearly mortified at how needy her body was, how her nipples were straining toward his mouth, just waiting for him to eat her all up and—

One nipple was engulfed by hot, wet heat, and Hermione groaned, tossing her head back as he suckled on her. He released it in favor of the other, and she never realized that her left nipple was slightly more sensitive than her right. She rubbed up against him as he reached down to dip into the waistline of her panties. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed. “Do you want to come?”

Hermione nodded frantically, a breathy little sigh escaping her as he rubbed her slowly. Suddenly his hands snapped away, and she huffed at him. 

“Take them off,” he said, and Hermione lifted herself off his lap to tug her panties down. She was completely exposed now, and her body was itching with anticipation. He flicked his wand and his robes melted away, his thick cock curving up as he grasped the base. It was large…nearly overly large, certainly bigger than Ron’s. Hermione gulped. 

He reached for her hand again, and Hermione let him guide her to his lap. Her clit stuttered on his cock, and she let out a broken moan as the hot length pulsed against her pussy, parting her lips as her clit swelled and the fire in her belly spread to rage through her whole body. He stroked his fingers over her shaven flesh, humming under his breath. 

“Fuck yourself on me,” he said, his voice a purr rolling over her heated body. She lifted herself up slightly, bracing herself for his girth and length. She sank down slowly and grunted as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him. Oh, God…she dropped down until she could feel his pubic hair crinkle against her wet flesh. She paused, steadying her breath before rising up again. She hadn’t been on top often, but he was hitting her sweet spot so perfectly, his throbbing length eager and hungry as she bounced up and down. Snape—Severus—Severus?

“Severus,” she groaned, and watched as his head tipped back and his eyes fluttered shut. His fingers bit into her sides almost painfully as he matched her for every thrust, grinding up into her as the heated honey seeped into her veins to center in her pussy, spreading like liquid fire as she moved faster, faster, faster…

Her orgasm nearly took her by surprise. It crashed over her like a gush of molten lava as she cried out, trembling as she clenched around him. He thrust into her once, twice more…

“Ahhh.” He snapped his hips as she felt him pulse inside of her, claiming her most private place with hot spurts of come. He shuddered as he stilled, his hands falling from her sides as his body grew lax on the stool. Hermione rested her face against Snape’s chest and inhaled his scent. Bergamot and something spicy, male musk. She sighed and lifted herself up. 

Snape reached for his wand and waved it in her direction. Her red velvet dress was back, and she furrowed her brow slightly. 

“I like this one,” Snape said silkily. “Much better than the skirt.” 

Hermione bent down to grab her ruined panties. She couldn’t put these back on. She’d have to conjure new ones. 

“Well…” Was she supposed to thank him? Would he thank her? How…what would Hogwarts be like, now? Hermione’s face heated. He was still naked, his chest bare, small dark nipples against startling white skin. A trail of fur started from under his bellybutton to gather around his pubis, where the cock that had just fucked her lay wet against his thigh. Hermione cleared her throat. What should she say…

“I hope you’re paying for the dance” is what came out instead. Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth and moved closer to the door. Severus chuckled. 

“Of course,” he said. 

Hermione glanced at Snape as he dressed. "When can we do this again?"

A hint of a smirk played on his thin lips. “Whenever you wish it,” he answered. He moved to the door as well, but Hermione blocked him. “What—”

“One more thing,” Hermione said, and surged up to kiss him. 

Hermione swallowed the muffled sound of surprise as she opened her lips against his. His tongue darted out to meet hers, and Hermione felt pleasantly sated, oh, this felt so wonderful…

Snape broke away, his dark eyes glittering strangely. “Tell your friends that this is the last night they are to be out after curfew.” He rested his hand on her cheek briefly before donning his mask and sweeping out of the room. 

Hermione stood still for a moment. She just had sex. With a teacher. And not just any teacher. With the meanest, nastiest…bravest, hottest…Hermione shook her head and drew in a deep breath. 

Ginny was waiting for her by the door. “Most of the girls have already gone back,” Ginny said. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“A dance,” Hermione said, but the grin that spread on her face betrayed her words. Ginny didn’t have to know who it was. 

“You _didn’t!”_ Ginny squealed. “Hermione! I can’t believe you! Was it good?”

Hermione’s face heated up. “Yes…” she paused. “Yes, it was.” 

“Well, we’ll have to do this again,” Ginny said eagerly. “I mean, we made a hundred Galleons just tonight, and—”

“I think I’ve had enough of go-go dancing for a while,” Hermione said, and honestly, it was almost the truth. Though now, she didn’t mind it as much. “Besides, S.P.E.W is doing well now, I don’t think I can take much more dancing.” 

“Alright,” Ginny sighed. “Well, I’m happy I could help. Let’s go back.” 

Hermione smiled and grasped Ginny’s hand. Someday she’d tell her, maybe sooner than later. But as they walked out of the Hogshead, Hermione could feel dark eyes on her, and her heart thumped as she wondered how the remainder of her tenure at Hogwarts would be.


End file.
